Hollowness and Treachery
by automatic-badgirl
Summary: Espionage inevitably leads to betrayal, unfortunately for Sara. Sara SidleSydney BristowCrossover Fic, part of the Five Things story cycle currently in progress.This fic is written entirely as a series of 100 word linked drabbles.


_Title: Hollowness and Treachery_

_Pairing: Sara Sidle/Sydney Bristow_

_Disclaimer: Not mine, never was._

_Spoilers: None really for CSI/Midyear of Season three for Alias_

_Feedback: Is my God._

Now:

_Betrayal_

"You used me!" She hates the hurt in her voice—the surprise.

"Yes." Sydney shrugs and latches the briefcase; she has what she came for. "I could have just shot you and taken what I wanted…"

No warmth now. The heat between them was a lie, a means to an end.

Sara steps into her way—shocked to find her gun in her hand. "I can't let you leave." She bluffs. "The cops are on their way."

Sydney is amused. "You have no idea who I am, do you, Sara Sidle?"

Sara raises the gun. "You're a liar."

She fires.

Then:

_Duty_

Her forearms are starting to ache. Sara leans her head against the slick tiles, water in her mouth tasting of iron.

Mind falling down the rabbit hole, chasing her release. Trying to recall the dream; _warm skin soft cries lips burning against hers woman scent filling her head_. She's close.

Over the pounding of the shower, the buzz of her pager against the counter. Harsh burrs rattle on formica, rip apart her concentration.

The building orgasm dissolves; gossamer washed down the drain unable to withstand the needy claims of work.

Sighing, she shuts off the shower.

Duty calls.

Before anything else.

_Death_

Death came as a surprise for the blonde in the hotel room. Even through the mess her face is now, there's disbelief in the remaining blue eye. The gun rests on her lap, a useless talisman against fate in the form of a .45.

The man was another matter. Blood stains the handcuff, paints crimson stripes on the suitcase it's attached to, pools under the partly severed wrist. Whoever did the cutting started when the victim was still alive but the man's eyes show no signs of pain, only anger.

"What've we got?" Sara asks.

Grissom looks up, "Bad business."

_Identity_

"These aren't ordinary victims." Greg swivels the computer screen towards Grissom. "AFIS gets a hit on the prints but look…"

_Restricted! Authorized Personnel Only_, blinks a steady warning on the screen.

"Military maybe?" He asks Grissom.

"Possibly, but this is vague even for them."

Nick finds them. "You better come see this."

The suitcase holds guns, cash and passports from various countries, different names for the dead man and woman in every one.

Nick scans the passports, "Laura Robertson, Arvin Sloane, Dr. Hans Mueller, Lauren Reed…who were these people--terrorists?"

Then his fingers find the suitcase's hidden panel.

"What's this?"

_Liquid_

"Jesus!" Nick steps back from the counter "What's that? Is it radioactive?" The glowing green vials—seven of them—rest in padded cells revealed when the false bottom is lifted out of the suitcase.

"No—doesn't seem to be," Greg sweeps a Geiger counter over the case "but that's some weird shit. Drugs maybe?"

Grissom lifts out one of the vials and holds it to the light, eerie glow visible even under the fluorescents. Possible bio-weapon? Disquiet wars with scientific interest. _Curiosity killed the cat._

"Tell Sara to suit up and meet me in the lab."

_Satisfaction brought him back…_

_Gamble_

"Treat this like a hot zone." Grissom confirms the negative pressure air filters are working correctly. His voice crackles over the radio in Sara's suit.

"So Ecklie won't have any problems with you handling potential biohazards outside of a class four lab?" The disapproval in her voice is at odds with her eager actions as she passes him a pipette.

"I'm playing a hunch Sara."

"You're potentially risking our lives on a hunch that this stuff is harmless?"

Grissom peers into the microscope. Sara readies a sample for the GCMS.

"Gambling is what Vegas is all about." He says simply.

_Results_

"So what is it?" Nick shakes the vial of liquid.

"Don't." Sara takes it from him.

"Why—is that dangerous?"

"No. I just don't like people shaking up my samples."

"Oh they're _your _samples now are they?" Greg teases.

"So let me get this straight." Warrick interrupts "You caught a case involving terrorists—

"Possible terrorists" Says Sara

Warrick continues, "and they were smuggling Palmolive?"

"We don't know what it is, but I'm pulling everyone off all other cases until we solve this." Grissom says. "This has priority."

"Maybe I can help." Sydney strides into Grissom's office, "I'm with the DEA."

_Deception_

Sydney holds out her badge, fake of course but an excellent forgery nevertheless

"I'm Agent Barlow with the DEA—Los Angeles office. Interpol alerted me when the prints of two criminals popped up on the system. Do you have—" She pretends to check her notebook, "Ms.Lauren Reed and Mr. Arvin Sloane in custody?"

"Well they won't be leaving." Greg blurts. Grissom silences him with a look.

"Yes we do Agent—Barlow was it?" Sydney nods. "But not in custody. I'm afraid they're dead. We're investigating."

Sydney feigns bewilderment. She knew they were dead—she had killed them after all.

_Response_

Sara is very aware of the woman standing in Grissom's office. The pull of her—Sara can't keep her eyes away. She sneaks look after look, the clean line of a thigh outlined by the sensible navy skirt, the shining brown fold of hair tucked absently behind an ear, the coral swell of lips offering a smile.

She steals glances, tucking them away to be brought out later, assembled into a tempting whole.

Sydney catches Sara looking once too often. She notes the subtle flush, the humming tension in the other woman; she files it away for possible use later.

_Adversary_

Grissom opposes her, "I'm sorry I can't possibly release the samples of...what was it?"

Sydney almost says, "I'm not at liberty to disclose that information" but stops in time. The spook is never far from the surface these days—it's how she's survived so far.

"It's a designer drug—a new variant of MDMA." She says smoothly.

"That's funny, nothing turned up on the mass spec…" That girl again--Sara.

"It'll fool most tests…Sara" Sydney layers a hint of promise in her name. "You wouldn't catch it using normal methods."

It works. Sara flushes, dips her head and falls silent.

_Whispers_

"Does anyone else have the feeling something isn't right here?" Catherine bends her head close and speaks softly.

"Yeah—DEA Agents just don't "show-up" there's protocols and paperwork and stuff." Nick whispers back.

Nick and Catherine have retreated to Greg's lab.

"Where's Warrick?" asks Nick.

"Griss' told him to make a few phone calls—check out Agent Barlow's story." Catherine frowns. "Something's off there—she creeps me out."

"Not Sara…" Greg chuckles. Nick and Catherine look confused.

"C'mon didn't you guys see that? She was totally checking Barlow out. Not that I blame her…she's hot."

"Sara? Whatever man!" Nick laughs.

_Subterfuge_

Grissom tips back his chair stalling Agent Barlow while Sara "misplaced" the samples. No matter how many warrants Barlow threatened him with, he was in no way ready to hand over evidence in this case; something was hinky.

"Where should I take it?" Sara asks urgently.

"To your house."

"What! I can't do that! What about the chain of custody?"

"I don't think Agent Barlow cares about chain of custody much, if we hand it over I doubt we'll ever see it again. Normal rules don't apply."

The plastic evidence bag crinkles as Sara slides the suitcase under her bed.

_Tactics_

Sydney grits her teeth, keeps smiling and presses her hands hard into her lap. The urge to pull her gun and start blasting was overwhelming. She had been so close…

"Well I guess I'll just have to wait for the paperwork then…" Damn. She didn't have time to create another false paper trail. Vaughn and her father were closing in.

"I'm terribly sorry Agent Barlow. But we're kinda sticklers for procedure here." Grissom's smile is wide and utterly false, she can tell.

She smiles wide, imagining bullets shattering his skull, "I understand. I'm going to grab a bite to eat…"

_Quarry_

Sara pulls in just as Agent Barlow exits. Her face is blank but anger stiffens her stride. Then she catches sight of Sara and the smile that lights up her face makes Sara blush.

Sara watches as Sydney comes over, fascinated by the loping ease of her walk on those heels. Sara rarely wears shoes like that and never walks with such confidence in them.

Not much call for high heels at crime scenes.

As Sydney bends down into the open window of her car, her hair brushes against Sara's arm—making her shiver.

"Care to join me for dinner?"

_Hunger_

Sara gasps as her shirt is pulled up and she feels Sydney's mouth on her belly. Her head tips back, racing thoughts trying to puzzle out how she came to be making out in her car with Agent "Call me Sydney" Barlow…

Then her mind flies apart when Sydney's clever fingers slip down and find her so wet and ready. Hot breath in Sara's ear pulls her back when she whispers. "Hotel or your place?"

"Huh?" Sara is lost. Sydney's throaty laugh makes her tremble. "Unless you want me to fuck you right here Sara…"

She fumbles for her keys.

_Disclosure_

"Bristow? Her real name is Sydney Bristow?" Grissom frowns at the two grim men.

"Yes." The older one is impassive but the young one simmers with barely contained anger.

"And she isn't an Agent with the DEA?"

"She is an Agent—or was actually until she went rogue. Where is she?" The one called Vaughn is getting impatient.

"Do DEA Agents go rogue often?" Grissom laces his question with skepticism.

"We don't have time for this. Where's Sydney?" The older man has yet to introduce himself.

"And you would be?"

"Agent Jack Bristow—her father." Cold eyes threaten, "We're CIA."

_Abandon_

Sheets twist in Sara's fists. She'd be ashamed of the noises she's making if she were in any state to care. Her entire world has narrowed to the four corners of her bed.

She's Sydney's creature now. Sydney's fingers, her tongue, her talented mouth on Sara's sex, even the bite marks on her inner thigh are welcome as she bends her spine, arching closer.

"Fuck!" Even with her tangled hair and flushed face there is a coolly amused control in Sydney's actions. "How long has it been, Sara?"

Sara can only groan. She's never come so hard in her life.

_Connections_

"No, you don't seem to understand! This is a matter of National Security."

Jack isn't convincing, in Grissom's opinion. It's obvious National Security would be fucked if it came to a choice between it and his daughter. His anger is convincing. So is the gun lying on the table.

"What does the fluid do?"

"Sydney believes it can lead her to a weapon."

Grissom can't help himself, "How?"

Vaughn's restraining hand on Jack's arm.

"Look Mr. Grissom—time is of the essence. Where is it?"

It is the anguished look on Vaughn's face more than anything that makes him tell.

_Awakening_

Sleep sucks at Sara, she longs to sink down into it, one tiny thread of noise still ties her to the waking world.

Its furtiveness rouses her. Sydney is calmly searching her room.

"What are you doing?" Muzzy confusion in Sara's voice.

Sydney ignores her and bends to look under the bed. She makes a satisfied noise and pulls out the suitcase, breaking the seal on the collection bag.

Panic jolts her awake. "Don't! That's evidence."

"No." Sydney opens the case "It's mine."

Sara lunges for the suitcase. Calmly, Sydney deflects her attack and punches her, hard.

Sara goes down.

_Endgame_

Pain fills Sara's head. Raw and meaty as the smell of the blood coating her lips. Sydney's broken her nose.

Betrayal weighs heavy on her. The dry sand of it closes her throat, choking off the cry of rage.

She sweeps her hands through the messy tumble of her clothes, discarded so eagerly not long ago.

The air in her bedroom still smells of sex.

She can't breathe; slimy blood in her throat is making her sob.

Sara finds her gun, solid weight a comfort in her hand.

Eyes hot and blurry with tears find Sydney's

"Why?"

"Because I must."

Now:

_Betrayer_

Sydney is amused. "You have no idea who I am, do you, Sara Sidle?"

Sara raises the gun. "You're a liar."

She fires.

The hard kick of the gun in her hand shocks her as it always does. So does Sydney's hand on her throat, her wrist aches from the blow that's disarmed her. Sydney's voice in her ear, intimate as a lover's.

"I could have killed you—I thought about it. But you were so needy. So trusting and easily led…"

"Who are you?" Sara's voice is choked.

Her lips brush Sara's forehead. "I was just like you once."

_Ending_

Grissom pushes past the two men standing over Sara, she's on the floor by her bed. There is no sign of Sydney Bristow, or the suitcase.

The force of Jack Bristow's anger is palpable, cold and crushing like a black hole.

The scattered clothes and rumpled bed, the poignant tell they tell, sadden Grissom.

He crouches by Sara and gently wraps the blanket round her, covering her nakedness. He can't look into her blank eyes, only smoothes her tangled hair.

He is still.

Until she leans into him, weeping hard enough to break his heart.

Then he holds her close.

FIN.


End file.
